Harsh History
by Auriel Dresden
Summary: Lancelot is taken by Saxons and Tristan and Bors are sent to get him back. But what tristan doesn't know is that Venora, Bors' woman is pregnant with Lancelot's child and Bors would rather kill him than save him...Rated M for sexual content rape,ect. SLAS
1. Taken

"Bors

"Bors?" Venora called from the bar. Everyone was quiet for once, either concentrating on their game, or listening to a hushed story and something that had been on her mind needed to come out now that the customers were as quiet as they would ever be.

Bors turned around in his chair to look at his woman. The look on her face told him it was serious. She was seven months along; their twelfth. He got up and walked over. He leaned across the bar and shut his eyes, cringing in anticipation for the smack.

"I only talked to her once. She wasn't even that pretty." He insisted.

"that is not what I want to talk to you about, Bors." She said and pushed his face away.

'What's wrong, Norey?' He asked using her nickname trying to lighten her mood.

'Something is not right.' She stated.

'I know. I've been fighting too long but once Arthur is finished talking to the Bishop we will all be free men…' he stated.

'Not that either. Something is wrong with the babe. Normally the babe is kickin' and movin' all the time bit this one is quiet.'

'Do you think its okay?'

'Yes. Its just fine.' She said rubbing her swollen stomach with care.

'Then what's wrong with it?' Bors asked coming around the bar and taking her closer to him.

'Bors, this babe has a secret." She looked up into his eyes. "One that you will be upset with. This babe has a large chance of bein' Lance's.' She said pulling away from him.

'You said that about the last one too.'

'I know. But this one's different from any other that I've birthed. Bors, what would you do if it were Lance's?' She asked.

'I would kill him. Lance o' course. He has his pick of any woman but the one, the only one I choose is mine and not his to borrow. How could it possibly be his. I have been with you every night when I am here." He calmly. Inside him, he raged for Lance's blood. Too many times had that boy touched his lass. This was the last time.

'You was leaving again and he offered me a large sum; enough to get me an' the bastards through the winter. It was too much to pass on. It was quick and I figured nothin' bad come of it. That night I slept with you too, that very same night. The chance was close but I know, mothers instinct, that this child is not yours.'

Bors let out a huff of exasperation and turned away. He walked back to the table to pick up his drink he caught sight of Lancelot feeling up the dress of some waitress. Bors slammed down his drink and was about three feet away from Lancelot, before he could beat him to a pulp, one of the knight's piped up and called for Venora to sing. She had just picked up her most recent child when the knight called. She declined but with some encouragement from them all she was up there and singing before she knew it.

All the knights listened to her sing with awed and looks of complete joy, and contentment on their faces.

'We will go home, we will go home, we will go home across the mountain…' she sang.

None saw Arthur approach.

Venora finished and the knight's finally noticed Arthur as he turned away to go tell the Bishop that the deal was off. That he couldn't do it to his men. The knights all walked over to Arthur and received the bad news.

Arthur and his knights arrived at their destination and left soon after. They journeyed back with all the people but the process was slow and they had to set up camp.

Lancelot was taking his things to where he was to sleep when he walked by Guinevere's caravan. She had just finished bathing and was drying herself off when she looked up to see him staring. He quickly looked away and kept going. He walked by most of the knights all of them gathered around a small fire. Lancelot caught Bors' eye and was frightened to see anger and hate burning in the gaze. With that look Lancelot thought it wise to sleep else where. Somewhere away from Bors. He walked into the wood until he couldn't hear the knights chatter but could still see the red glow of their fire.

He found a clearing and was shocked to see Tristan already laying off to one side.

'May I join you?' Lancelot asked knowing very well that Tristan was not asleep.

'Why not? I'm going to be scouting the land all night anyway.' Tristan said and rolled onto his side his back to Lancelot.

Lancelot set down his bed roll and lay upon it. When he was comfortable he turned to where Tristan lay and found Tristan's bed roll empty. He hated when Tristan did that. Scared him half to death with the fact that he heard nothing. But there, a snapping twig. Perhaps Tristan should work a little harder. Lancelot smiled to himself and looked down at the dragon medallion given to him by his father before leaving his home. He let it fall again to his chest and got comfortable again.

The footsteps he suddenly heard were heavy and close. The sound came from behind him. He stood and went for his double swords. He froze with them in his hands. Silence. He heard someone string an arrow to a bow off to his left. He heard the arrow being release and he moved out of the path of the arrow. He went to the arrow and found it was that of a Saxon. He went to get up but found a dagger at his throat.

'Get up slowly knight.' The Saxon sneered.

Lancelot suddenly whipped around but the Saxon had seen this coming and hit him over the -head with the hilt of his dagger before Lancelot could try anything. Lancelot fell to the ground.

When he came to, his legs were bound and his mouth was gagged with a foul smelling cloth.

The Saxon was binding his wrists together and looked up to find Lancelot staring at him.

'Well, well, well. Looks like I've finally captured Arthur.' The Saxon whispered deeply. 'He's going to be glad. We finally caught _the famous_ Arthur.' The Saxon had Lance's sleeve in one hand. Lancelot thought the man was daft until he squinted and saw that something was embroidered into the cuff of the sleeve. 'Artorius C.'

He had borrowed one of Arthur's shirts after Bors had dumped his shirts into the mud on the way to the Roman family. As a joke of course, but now Lancelot was not laughing.

Lancelot groaned, of course something like this would happen to him. Of all people it would be him. He wasn't going to say anything about his real identity. Arthur would be safe if they thought it was he who was Arthur. I might even give Arthur the time he needed to get back to the wall in time.

"Yes, I am Artorius Castus.' Lancelot whispered. He didn't want the others to hear them because a frightened Saxon is a dangerous thing. especially an outnumbered one.

The Saxon grinned and began dragging Lancelot away from the camp. Lancelot thought frantically of a way to get out of the mess he found himself in but couldn't find one. With a final attempt at saving himself he tugged his dragon medallion from his neck and threw it on the ground, near his bedroll.

Tristan had heard a struggle happen near the camp site but thought it was one of the knights picking a fight with another. When he returned Lancelot had gone. He immediately saw that there were foot prints on the ground leading towards Lancelot's bedroll and that Lancelot's double swords were lying off to one side where an arrow also lay. He ran to them and knew exactly what had happened. He looked on the ground and found the imprint of someone being dragged away. He followed it to Lancelot's bed roll where he found the medallion. He then followed the imprint all the way to the center of the wood where it disappeared.

He turned back and went to find Arthur.

'Arthur! Arthur!' he called. Arthur whipped around from where he was standing by the fire.

'What is it, Tristan?' he asked alarmed at Tristan's tone.

'Lancelot has been taken by a Saxon back to their camp.' He said and showed Arthur the dragon medallion.

Arthur's breath caught. He was silent for a while.

'I would suggest that we wait till morning then Bors and I will go looking for him.' Tristan suggested. Arthur just nodded and turned away.

'Go tell Bors. And you two will leave before dawn, do you hear?' Arthur said his back to Tristan.

'Yes, Arthur.' Tristan said and he was gone.

Arthur's ears were still ringing. He couldn't believe that Lancelot had been taken. He suddenly felt so helpless that his best friend had gone.

_They will find him in the morning and everything will be alright. _He told himself. But he wasn't entirely sure of his own words. He then did what he thought was the best thing he could. He bent down in his knees and prayed for the life of his friend.

Arriving at the Saxon camp Lancelot was thrown into a dirty caravan full of blood soaked walls and red floors. It was empty except for a round wooden post in the far left corner. It was a large caravan. The Saxon dragged him towards the post and tied him so that his hands were above his head. The Saxon left him there. Lancelot pulled with all his strength on the rope that tied him to the post. Nothing. The Saxon had tied a good knot with a good rope that didn't even fray. He was stuck. The Saxon had taken all of his blades away.

The Saxon returned and smiled. He held the tent flap open for someone. Lancelot gazed in horror at the man who entered. Cynric. The Saxon army leader's son.

'Well. Look what we have here. The almighty Arthur. They say he's unbreakable. They say he is invincible. Him and his knights are the best in the land. We'll just see about that."

Cynric then took him out of the caravan after untying the rope from the post. He dragged Lancelot into the middle of the camp where all men could see.

"This is the mighty Artorius. The feared and terrible Arthur. And we have him. What do you think boys? Before we take him to the other camp, shall we…have him? Can't mix the races with…him." Cynric threw him to the ground. And the men who were surrounding him all threw their heads back and laughed.

'We are going to have to break this man before dawn. How many of you think it'll take to do it to do it?' The men all sneered and made noises in agreement.

'but first things first.' Cynric bent down so that he was eye level with Lancelot. 'Do you have anything to say before we break you Sir, knight?' He asked his breath stinking of ale. He removed Lancelot's gag.

'My knights will come for me and you and your army will suffer.' He threatened his face full of determination.

'Well he has courage, I'll give him that but I don't take to threats easily. Boys! If he cries out the one that made him do it will get extra mead for a week. Leave his gag out of his mouth so you can be sure that he is screaming.' He said over his shoulder. He looked at Lancelot and cupped his jaw. 'Have fun.' He said to Lancelot and left through the crowd of horny men. The group of men stared at him most of them Lancelot could tell were about to really enjoy themselves.

'He sure is pretty. 'One of the men said and came up to Lancelot. 'My name is Inryic and I am going to be the first one to make you scream. He began undoing his belt and Lancelot was suddenly aware of how close these men were going to get to him. He closed his eyes tightly and wished it all a dream. But when the Saxon began taking off his pants he knew he wasn't going to last the night.

(I am not going to go into graphic details often in this story but by this time you should be able to tell why it's rated M.)


	2. Torturous Behaviour

Arthur and the knights headed east again. Arthur had sent Bors and Tristan to retrieve Lancelot and bring him back immediately. Arthur wished he could go with them but he knew that he had to lead these people so he just trotted around on his horse always straining his ears to hear the sound of his knights coming back with his best friend.

Nothing. He heard nothing for two hours and he began to feel uneasy. Where were they? What did the Saxons do to Lancelot? Is he even alive? What made them take him of all the knights? Why was his dragon medallion left behind it was always around Lancelot's neck and he rarely took it off?

Arthur's mind could have easily answered some of those questions but he wasn't thinking strait and he was so worried about his friend that he could barely hear what was going on around him.

'Arthur. What is making you so worried looking?' Guinevere asked from her position on a horse of which she borrowed from one of the villagers

Arthur had jumped when she first started speaking but he relaxed a little at the sound of her voice. Arthur got closer to her and said in a quiet voice, 'one of my knights was taken yesterday night. I sent Bors and Tris…two of my knights to retrieve him but they aren't back yet.'

'Lancelot was taken by Saxons I presume.' She stated.

Arthur nodded his head but then stopped. 'Wait how did you know it was Lancelot?'

'First of all I am a woman and I saw how close you two were and I see the worry in your eyes now so I know that this knight is closer than the others. And secondly he is a hard man to miss and I do not miss much.' She smiled sweetly at him. 'Don't worry. Your knight will be fine.' She then sped up the horse and talked with Dagonet who was in the caravan with little Lucan.

Dagonet looked at her and suddenly his facial expression changed and he looked over at Arthur. Arthur looked away for he did not want one of his knights to see how worried he was.

Dagonet got off the caravan and onto his horse. He rode to Galahad and Gawain who were talking about the woman of Samartia again. He trotted past them then came up from behind to squeeze himself between them. They instantly stopped talking and listened to what he had to say. Galahad and Gawain both looked up at Arthur in unison. Their looks asked him so many questions and once again he had to look away. He heard the shriek of a hawk and he looked up to see Tristan's hawk flying overhead.

Tristan must be close. Arthur thought to himself. Or the bird is just looking for him. Arthur began panicking and relaxed himself a bit by praying to any god who would listen.

Lancelot was stripped of his clothing and one after the other the Saxons forced themselves upon him. He wanted to cry out but he knew what would happen if he did. He stopped counting the Saxons after ten and he forever forced himself to merely grimace as the Saxons dirtied him.

He saw the last Saxon leave out of the caravan and he was so much in pain that he could not move into a more comfortable position.

It was dark still and he feared what was to happen to him come morning. He was so tired and he would have drifted asleep were it not for the pain and were it not for the man who threw the flap of the caravan open. The man was huge. When he crawled into the caravan the caravan seemed to sink a little into the ground. Lancelot was suddenly very awake and very frightened.

'My fellows tell me that no one can break you. They call me Boris and I am here to show them that you are breakable.' The man took a step forward and then another. Lancelot faced his fear of pain and moved behind the post so that he was squashed into the corner. Boris took no time to reach for Lancelot behind the post and pull him out of his hiding spot by his ankle. Lancelot was suddenly very aware that this man was the strongest of them all and that he probably weighed a tone. Lancelot closed his eyes and wished all of it was a dream but when he opened his eyes he was that Boris had removed his pants and was about to enter him. The first thrust was so painful that Lancelot had to cry out. Boris liked that and the next was harder. Lancelot cried out again. He bit his lip of the next on but that only made his lip bleed.

Boris held Lancelot's arms down with tremendous force. Boris was nearing his climax and was becoming very heavy. Lancelot was having trouble breathing with the heavy man upon his chest. He was lifted up and thrown back down with every thrust which Lancelot knew was bruising his back terribly. He cried out as Boris orgasmed. Boris was too tired to continue but as he was pulling his pants back up he seemed proud of himself.

'Looks like I was the one to break you after all.' Boris said and left the caravan to tell the others. Lancelot noticed a lot of new blood on the floor of the caravan and he closed his eyes knowing that it was his own. He curled himself into a ball he didn't really care how painful it was, and cried silently.

Cynric came running to the caravan and threw open the flap. He smiled so wide when he saw Lancelot's form.

'Oi, Boris! You with get an extra brew for this you slick bastard. Lancelot heard Boris cry out in glee. Cynric stared at Lancelot for a while longer just taking it all in. Then he himself mounted the caravan. Lancelot thought it was all done and over but he was wrong.

'I wonder if you will break easier now.' He said and he too undid his pants.

Lancelot cried harder at the mere thought of what was to come. He knew that this was their leader and he knew that if he could kill this man the Saxons would probable be stupefied and would be dumbfounded on what is to be done. They would turn back and go to Cerdic. He would probably die but it would give Arthur the time to get the people to Britain's great wall and to safety. He then knew that he was just thinking about getting Guinevere to safety. She shook his head at the memory of her beautiful body and tried to concentrate at the task at hand.

Cynric had a dagger in the back of his belt. That would be around his ankles soon so he forgot that idea. There was a closer dagger by Cynric's shoulder and that he knew he could get. But would he be fast enough?

Cynric positioned himself and thrusted. Lancelot was so caught up on with to get the dagger that it came at a surprise and he cried out.

'Ah yes. You are now very breakable and fragile. I love a woman, well in this case a man, who is delicate. Just makes me want to try harder to break the god damned thing.' Cynric said and laughed.

Lancelot was looking around in-between thrusts at what he could do. He groaned inside and moaned for it to stop which only enticed Cynric more. He realized suddenly that the rope attaching his arms to the post had become loose. He still couldn't get his hands free but he would be able to reach the dagger. Depending on how violent Cynric got. He tried to get it and almost got it. Lancelot hated to say this but he wished Cynric would go just a little harder so that he could reach the dagger. He decided to tempt fate and cry out. Cynric looked up at Lancelot's face which Lancelot made to look as though he was in terrible pain. The fact was that Lancelot was in terrible pain so he was very convincing. Cynric was so convinced that he got even harder. Lancelot got a hold of the hilt and was able to get it loose but Cynric was taking longer thrusts and so it took him longer to get to the position Lancelot needed. He tried once more and finally got it as Cynric orgasmed. Cynric fell upon Lancelot breathing heavily.

'You smell pretty, Arthur.' Cynric said slowly looking up at Lancelot's face. His eyes went wide when he saw that Lancelot had Cynric's own dagger at his throat.

'Get off of me.' Lancelot demanded.

'Oh really. Well you are in no stat to be threatening people with daggers now are you?' Cynric said through his teeth.

Cynric had a very good point Lancelot realized but then he reminded himself that he was the one with the weapon. Cynric moved only a little and before Lancelot could slit Cynric's throat Cynric had plunged the dagger from his belt into Lancelot's stomach. The dagger in Lancelot's hands fell to the floor. Cynric got off of Lancelot and pulled up his pants. He retrieved the dagger from the floor and put it back into the sheath at his shoulder. He stood over Lancelot who was cringing in pain and retrieved his other dagger which was embedded in Lancelot's gut. He tore it out of him in a way that ripped Lancelot's skin a little.

Lancelot cried out and then tightly shut his eyes.

'Keep that as a reminder to you. Only fight when you are on the upper hand and when you are not tied to a post.' Cynric put Lancelot's clothes back on him figuring he would die before morning. He thought that such a mighty man as Artorius Castus should die with at least a little modestly. Cynric turned and left the caravan. Lancelot scarcely heard Cynric bark to his men that Lancelot was not to be touched until the morning when they would drag him out and tie him to the back of the caravan where he would be dragged along the road for all Saxons to see.

Lancelot threw up blood every few minutes and was certain that he would die this night.

'Why did you choose me to come wif yeh?' Bors demanded. 'Why not Galahad or Gawain even?'

'Because even thought you are one of the largest of us you are still one of the quietest and one of the best on their feet.' Tristan answered riding a little ahead of Bors.

Bors snarled at him and Tristan smiled.

'What is making you say all this, Bors? When we come back with Lancelot you will forever be in Arthur's debt.'

'Nothin'.' Bors said in a very grumpy voice.

'It's about Vanora isn't it?' Tristan asked.

'Now how in bloody hell did you know that?' Bors asked angrily wondering if all the knights knew.

'Well I am rather observant and I specifically remember you talking with Vanora and then you getting all mad while glancing at Lancelot as though you would kill 'im.' Tristan stated.

Bors was dumbfounded.

'So even when you're drunk you are still sober. God; is there any thing that gets by you?'

'How would I know? It gets by me remember.'

Bors rolled his eyes.

'You don't have to do that you know.'

'God damn it man you're a bloody odd fellow.' Bors said although he was getting more and more cheerful.

'So what is wrong with Vanora? And why do you want to kill Lancelot?'

'He did it with me woman and now she is gunna have 'is child.' Bors said and tried not to show too much emotion.

'I see.' Tristan whispered.

'Oh really? How can you understand?'

'No Bors I mean I see the Saxons and it would be wise to shut up and leave your grudge on Lancelot for after we find him and take him back.' Tristan whispered and got off his horse. Bors did the same. They find there way to the border of the camp without being noticed.

'Okay. We are going to both go looking for him but of you find him look up and find my hawk in the sky. He will tell me when you found him. The same goes for you. If I find him first, she will shriek really loudly. Till then she will be silent.' Tristan said and when Bors was about to ask a question, he disappeared into the camp.

Bors turned to ask Tristan a question but found his friend gone.

'If it's a race you want it's a race your gunna get.' He whispered to himself. He walked through the camp undetected. He was looking through a caravan when he heard the hawk shriek loudly.

'God damn it Tristan your good at everything.' The Saxons didn't seem to notice the hawk and Bors was able to get out without detection. He got back to their horses that were waiting just over a hill in the forest and waited for Tristan there.

He heard footsteps coming and he readied himself incase it was a scout. Tristan came over the hill breathing heavily with a body over his shoulder and blood all over his face.

'Jesus, Tristan. You got to kill Saxon too in the amount of time you found him? Well that's not fair.' He stated and laughed but when Tristan's face got serious.

What happened to him, Tris?' Bors asked.

Tristan laid Lancelot on the ground and Bors turned away and hurled into a bush.

'You've seen and done worse, Bors.' Tristan said as Bors steadied himself.

'What's with you now?'

'It's just… I dunno.'

'Well let's get him back to Arthur. Do you want to take him?' Tristan asked.

Bors wasn't even looking but he shook his head.

They got into their horses and rode away towards Arthur undetected by the Saxons.


	3. Battle on the Ice

**Bors** and Tristan got to the trail an hour later. Lancelot was having trouble breathing and Tristan was beginning to really worry about him. Bors was staring off into space wondering what he would have done had he found Lance first. Would he have left him? Would he have saved him? He didn't know. The thoughts of Vanora were fresh in his mind and he could think of nothing else as they walked up the already broken in path taken by the knights an hour ago. Tristan picked up speed knowing that they were close.

They rounded a corner and finally saw the large group of people. They rode quickly towards them and luckily Arthur did not see them.

Guinevere did however and came trotting down.

'Whatever you do, do not tell Arthur that we found him.' Tristan said and trotted past her. Guinevere looked at Bors who was not paying attention to her.

She rode away from him and came up next to Tristan who was getting Lancelot onto a caravan. One of the women was a healer and would hopefully be able to help him. Guinevere caught a glimpse of Lancelot and she gasped. She then saw Arthur coming down from the front of the line and she whipped around to see that Bors was gone. Tristan was in the caravan and his horse was on the opposite side of the caravan from where Arthur was descending.

She rode up to him.

'Have Bors and Tristan returned with Lancelot?' He asked hopefully.

Guinevere would not trust her voice to lie to him so she just shook her head. She bid him ride with her back up to the front of the group where Dagonet, Galahad and Gawain were talking amongst themselves. They all saw Tristan and Bors return.

'Arthur. Is Lancelot all right?' Galahad asked. Guinevere shot him a look to keep quiet and suddenly all the guards knew that something was wrong with their friend.

'I mean, do you think he is all right?' He said rephrasing looking at Guinevere, who nodded slightly.

'I hope so. But if not we have to keep going. Nothing can stop us from making you men FREE men.' Arthur said and all of them knew that if Lancelot were to die that Arthur would have died inside as well.

They walked in silence for an hour before they faintly hear the approaching of the Saxon drums.

'They are close.' stated Dagonet.

Arthur's eyes widened but not for the approaching Saxons but for the fact that Bors and Tristan weren't back yet and the fact that whatever the Saxons would have done to Lancelot they would have done it before moving on.

They rounded a corner and came face to face with a large frozen lake.

Everyone got off their horses and began walking across.

'Spread out. Everyone spread out.' Arthur cried. Everyone did as he asked and then the ice began to creak. Arthur eyed Jols and Jols knew exactly what Arthur wanted. Jols went to the weapon caravan and began emptying it out onto the ice in a line.

'Knights.' Arthur said but they were already ahead of him and they were beginning to get their weapons ready.

_Lancelot would have objected had he been here._ Thought Arthur as he got ready for battle.

All the caravans had reached the opposite side of the shore and Arthur stood in a line with his remaining three knights.

'there are only three of us and hundreds of them. We will probably not make it off this ice but we can try.' Arthur said.

'But there are four.' said Guinevere coming up from behind him.

'Do you understand what you are doing, coming here and fighting?' asked Arthur.

Guinevere just smiled and turned to face the oncoming Saxons.

The Saxons came onto the lake not knowing weather it was a trap but they kept on coming strong.

'Archers!' Cynric cried. As he said it fifty arrows flew into the sky. They came merely half way across the lake and fell to the ice.

'They're out of range.' An archer told Cynric.

Cynric was already angry about the disappearance of Lancelot that this news didn't help. He began walking forward and all the Saxons followed his lead.

The ice was creaking under their feet. Cynric gave the ice a wary look. He thought about retreating but he knew that he would be killed if he retreated by no other that his very own father.

He advanced slowly eyeing the knights. There were only three of them and a woad. What harm could they do?

Suddenly he saw an arrow come from a tree. Are there more Woads? Cynric thought. The arrow implanted itself into the chest of the man next to him. He was suddenly very aware that even though the knights were out of their range his army was surely inside theirs.

He saw two figures coming from the opposite bank. More knights.

He cried out in frustration.

Tristan and Bors joined Arthur and the rest of them. Their weapons ready.

'Lancelot?' Arthur asked hopefully.

Tristan looked at him and shook his head. Arthur looked at Bors and Bors looked away angrily. Arthur sagged a little. His best friend was dead. Taken and killed by Saxons. He pulled back the string of his bow and fired. The rest of them did the same.

That began the battle.

They kept getting the Saxons to cluster. But the ice wasn't breaking. Arthur looked at his knights and saw Dagonet pick up his ax and run forward.

'DAGONET!' he cried. Dagonet was not listening.

He hit the ice with his ax. Cynric roared, 'kill the knight.'

Arrows whizzed by but still Dagonet stayed and tried to break that ice. Arthur and Bors were running forward. The ice suddenly gave way and Dagonet was shot. He fell into the hole he had created with his ax. Arthur reached into the icy water and Bors shielded them with his shield. Arthur and Bors dragged Dagonet trying to get out of the Saxon archers range. The Saxon army didn't move. The ice creaked under there feet and all of a sudden the ice broke and many of them fell in.

Cynric cried out as one of his men grabbed his ankle to keep from going under. He took his sword and cut off the man's wrist and the man fell into the icy waters.

Cynric eased away seeing that the knights dragging their friend weren't yet out of range. He got to a patch of ice that was steady and picked up a fallen crossbow. He placed an arrow and fired. His arrow was stopped but another arrow entering its path in midair. Cynric looked around and found that a woman was looking at him with hate in her eyes; a very beautiful woman standing in the knight's line. But it was not her arrow that mislead his it was a different arrow. She couldn't have done it. It was the wrong angle. It came from the side of the lake.

A lone soldier, who was bent in two, had changed the arrows course. He tried hard to see the face of this soldier and was pushed off the ice by one of his fellow Saxons looking out for his safety.

'Cynric. You might have fallen in. What were you looking at? We must return to your father and the rest of the army.'

But Cynric was not listening he was in such a state of shock that his mind was racing and his body was trembling.

The lone soldier now collapsed, was Arthur.

well we know him as Lancelot.


	4. Home is where the heart is

**A/N: Hey guys nice to know that people are reading my story again. Sorry it has taken so long to update. But I have been in school so I am sure that you understand. This chapter is really short but don't worry I will hopefully make up for it in the next chapters.**

Arthur led his knights back to where the horses waited. Bors put Dagonet on his horse and covered him in his cloak. Dagonet was dead; he had been so close to freedom. This fact pained Bors.

Arthur was silent, although as were his knights, his silence was the strongest. Dagonet was dead and as was Lancelot. Even the beautiful face of Guinevere didn't uplift his saddened spirit. They arrived at the wall two hours after leaving the frozen lake.

Lucan ran forward upon the sight of the knights coming into the gates. He stopped a few paces ahead of them. He didn't see Dagonet. The limp form of Dagonet on Bors' horse finally caught his eye. He ran to him. Dagonet's hand was out from beneath the cloak. Lucan took Dagonet's ring off his finger and held the large ring in his hand. Guinevere came and put her hand on his shoulder. He began slowly to cry as he grasped onto Dagonet's cold hand as though he never wanted to let go. Dagonet had been the one to save Lucan and take care of him. Dagonet had been Lucan's father for the last few days yet he felt that he had known Dagonet forever.

Bishop Germanius entered the courtyard, followed by a man carrying a box. He saw Alecto and cried out, 'Oh Alecto you are safe. The pope's favorite godchild has arrived! He will be so pleased. Where is Marius?'

'Dead.' Alecto said without a spec of grief. The bishop looked around in confusion but smiled anyway.

'You brought my Alecto to me and now your freedom.' He said addressing the knights with a smile and turned to signal the man with the box. The man then opened it. Gawain went and took all the tiny scrolls out of the box with a wicked glance to the man. He brought it to the knights that were waiting, their bodies raked with grief. Galahad took one out and held it in his hand in disgust. Gawain looked around but only saw Bors. There were five scrolls remaining. He took two and gave them to Bors who was staring into nothingness.

'Bors.' He waited for Bors to face him. 'For Dagonet.' He said and turned away leaving Bors to his thoughts.

Bors snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at the scrolls in his hand. He then looked up at Bishop Germanius.

'He doesn't need this to be free. He's already a free man!' he yelled and stormed away.

Gawain looked at Galahad. He understood how Bors felt for he would feel the same were Galahad to die. He wouldn't be able to live without him. They were two of a kind but they were the best of friends. Right from the beginning it was Gawain and Galahad, Bors and Dagonet. Lancelot was always teasing the rest of them and was mostly a friend to the women. Tristan was the odd man out. He got along with them all yet never close with anyone. Arthur always wanted to be good friends with Lancelot but it wasn't until their sixth year together did they actually construct a bond. Yet Arthur could never compete with Lancelot's skill to attract women.

Arthur looked at the box. Two left. One for his fallen friend and one for… His head whipped around for Tristan.

'Where is Tristan?' he asked to no one in particular. Guinevere was silent for she knew where he was. Tending to Lancelot.

She came towards Arthur and put her hand on his shoulder. 'I saw him go inside. The death of Dagonet must have hit him hard. Give him time.' She cooed.

**

* * *

**

**There** was a funeral for Dagonet that day. Bors was having a hard time keeping his feelings to himself. To keep the tears inside he looked up and watched the smoke fade into the sky. Was Dag up there watching them already? Was he at peace with the woman of his dreams? Was he happy? Bors was looking forward for everyone to leave so he could be left alone with his dear friend.

People began to leave and Arthur walked away from Dagonet's grave, straying off towards his father's grave.

Guinevere followed him. She knelt down beside him.

'A grave with no sword.'

'It was my father's.' He answered. At this point he was a man of few words. He hadn't spoken much to anyone. But he felt he needed to say what he was thinking. Guinevere would understand.

'What am I going to do? Lancelot before we left, told me how he wanted to be recognized after death. He wanted to be burned and that I was to throw his ashes to a strong east wind. I don't even have his body. How can I free his soul is I can't do as he wishes. And the other knights they…' he stopped caught in his own thoughts. 'Dagonet…oh Dagonet. Bors is devastated and Galahad and Gawain are inseparable as though they never want to part in their friendship. They are homesick. They have their freedom but they leave not. Instead they look towards the mountains. They wait for something…I don't know what they are waiting for. Tristan is…silent. I have barely seen him lately. What can I do to help my men?'

Guinevere was quiet.

'I know not how you can help your men. But I know how I can help you.' She said hushed.

'Oh.'

'I am going to tell you something. And though I was supposed to keep it to myself I will tell you anyway because you need to hear it.'

'Oh you are leaving soon? Now perhaps? Don't wait so long to tell me these things. I think that I am getting used to the fact that everyone in my life is leaving.' He said saddened.

'He is alive, Arthur. Lancelot is alive.'

Arthur stared at Guinevere as though she had grown three heads.

'I will take you to him.' She whispered.


	5. First Sight

Arthur followed Guinevere back into the fort

Arthur followed Guinevere back into the fort. The people they crossed pats with never raised their heads. He was the man who traded his men's lives for the lives of Romans. He would never be forgiven in their books. Arthur couldn't understand. Usually his people looked up at his and tear of pride or joy would glisten in them but the tears in their eyes now were no tears of joy but tears of hate.

Guinevere tried not to notice as she tugged him along through the dirt roads to the castle ahead. Camelot had seen better days but war was at hand and the people were scrambling to get out. Guinevere's hand tightened as they approached a staircase. It led to a doorway which then led into the castle itself. They didn't go in the front. It would be been too much for either one of them.

The door creaked at the guard pulled it open. He bowed upon seeing the people entering the doorway. He had never seen King Arthur in the flesh and to do so was a bit of a shock. He was at a loss of words. The news of what Arthur had done hadn't even fazed this man. He would fight along side his king as though he was one of the Knights of the Round Table. He would wear that title with honor, or at least better than that Lancelot fellow who he frequently saw gallivanting about with stray women and disgusting the title of knighthood. He was almost happy the Lancelot knight was gone. No more disgrace in the kingdom.

Guinevere turned when she felt Arthur stop. He had turned to the guard. She watched him curiously as he eyed the man.

"What is your name, brave sir?' Asked Arthur sounding sincere.

The man stammered. " I…I…I am Frendel son of Gradnan." Said the guard and bowed.

Arthur almost smiled.

"But believe you me my liege, I am no brave man. I have never once seen battle or even been in a real fight." The man said and tried to look strong by standing up straight and squaring his shoulders. His pale skin and light mustache were signs of innocence. His light hair was hidden by his helmet but Arthur knew it was there.

"A man doesn't have to be in a battle to be a brave man. I can tell that you are one simply by looking into your face. You show no sign of ailment, you show no fear and you are so very brave to be able to allow men to it through you doorway knowing that they may not return." Arthur said and turned. He then walked away without another word to Frendel.

Frendel a bit taken aback by what the king had to tell him, stood dumbfounded. Realization set in and he then felt as though his life, his position at the doorway held a new meaning.

Guinevere looked hardly at Arthur. This was not a king before her; this was simply a frightened man. His eyes were wide and showed too much white. He would never have shown this fear to any of his men. To anyone really. She felt special at the fact that she had seen it at all.

"Arthur? What is it you fear?" She asked taking his arm and slowing his pace. He didn't look at her.

"I fear…I fear only that which I cannot undo. I fear for tomorrow, I fear for my people, and thought I am a frightened man indeed, I fear most that what you say of Lancelot is false. That he…that you were mistaken." He looked at her then his eyes were glossy and tears were beginning to tread down his cheeks.

" I would never lie to you, my king. I would rather die that hurt you in such a way. Your love for you men is so strong I know, and to fool with that is treachery. No one should be able to put fear into a king. But then again most kings don't have your heart. You are the king of all kings. You truly car about your people and that is a rare thing indeed." She placed her right hand on his cheek the other still clutching his arm. A couple tears landed on her hand and she ignored them.

Arthur shut is eyes tightly and clenched his fists. He put is head down and then whipped away his tears with his hands. Guinevere then took one of his hands again and led him down the corridor.

A few moments later they were standing in front of a door. It was of heavy wood and steel bolts. Guinevere then released his hand and pushed him gently forward.

He reached for the latch and twisted it open with the strength of his wrist. The door swung quietly open and Arthur stood still in the doorway, not daring to enter.

Lancelot lay on the bed with bandages all over his torso and face. His eyes were closed and black and his face was pale with black bruises littering his jaw and cheeks. A blanket was pulled up to his chest which was riddled with deep scratches not yet mended.

Tristan sat beside him his hands pink with Lancelot's blood. The bowl of water beside him was a deep red. The bloodied bandages were lying in a pile on the ground and the fresh ones, of which there were few, were in a neat pile on the other side of Tristan, close to Lancelot's head.

Lancelot's breaths were strained and it sounded like he gasped when breathed in.

Tristan looked from Lancelot to Arthur and rested on Guinevere. He left his face blank but the fury inside him was raging. Guinevere felt the heat of his gaze and looked away. Arthur took a step towards Lancelot but stopped when Lancelot opened his eyes.

They looked around unfocused until they rested on Tristan who leaned in to hear. Lancelot took in a painful breath and breathed out one word.

"Bors."


	6. What is Real

Arthur staggered

Arthur staggered. He took a step towards Lancelot and saw his friend's eyes on him.

"Lancelot?" Arthur said and stepped up close next to the bed. Lancelot looked at him with fear in his eyes. It wasn't Arthur he saw. It wasn't a friend he saw. In pain, Lancelot tried to back away from Arthur.

"Lancelot? Look at me." Tristan said taking Lancelot's face delicately into his hands. "Look at me, my friend." He said softly. Lancelot began to tremble as he switched his gaze away from Arthur's form. He knew that voice; Tristan, his savior. He couldn't see anything but the light from the fire and, Arthur but as a dark shadow standing above him; to him it was Cynric. He wanted to whimper and run but his throat was coarse and his body was motionless.

"Tri…is..stan? I can't…see..eee." Lancelot whispered for fear of Cynric hearing him. He was terrified of the dark shadow and he just wanted to disappear. _Why was Tristan here? Why was Tristan with him in his version of hell? Where was he? Was he still among the Saxons? Was this really Cynric above him, ready to break him again? Break him…break him…_

Lancelot tightly shut his eyes as they began to tear. Tristan leaned his head in close and placed his lips next to Lancelot's ear. He did this slowly and with great care to not frighten his crumpled friend.

"I am here. You are safe. We got you out of the Saxon camp. You are well and Arthur is here to see you." Tristan whispered. Lancelot took in a strained breath and sighed. He was safe.

"I don't want Arthur to see me like this." Lancelot still didn't realize that it was Arthur who was standing above him. He thought he was still stuck halfway between a dream and reality. But which was the dream he knew not.

Arthur looked from his dear Lancelot to Tristan of which Lancelot held his hand so tightly. Arthur found that a fiery burn in his body began the throb; jealousy. He wanted to be the one Lancelot was holding onto so tightly. He wished Lancelot didn't look at him as though he was a monster. Why could Lancelot not see him?

"What ails him?" Arthur asked Tristan trying to keep down his anger. How could he be angry at a time like this? His dearest friend was alive and all he could do was pout and become jealous? Arthur mentally scolded himself at his folly. How could he be so childish?

Lancelot, with his head leaning on Tristan's shoulder was beginning to fade out of consciousness. Tristan could tell because his breathing slowed and his eyes were rolling back into his head. Tristan then took Lancelot's head in his hands and moved it off of his own shoulder and placed it softly onto the pillow. He ran his hands through his own hair before he looked up at Arthur then at Guinevere.

"Guinevere could you leave us please." Tristan said quietly.

"No I wish to hear what ails him." Guinevere shot at him. She didn't care if this upset Tristan, she did want to see what Arthur would see. She wanted to share with Arthur this part of his life. Seeing the full injuries of his best friend would be an ordeal and he would need her at his side to help him.

"Guinevere, do as Tristan says. Please." Arthur said without turning to her. After a moment, she huffed and left the room. She could not believe what Arthur was doing to her. She had told him what he had longed to hear, she had led him to what he had desired and he was shutting her out.

Once she was outside of the room Arthur took a stool that was in the corner of the room and sat in front of Tristan. They were perpendicular to the fire place and so Tristan's shadow was hiding Lancelot's face. Arthur very much wished he could touch his friend's face and hold his hand. He wished he could have been in Tristan's place, taking care if him, loving him. Arthur stilled. Did he just say loving him? No, no he loved all his men; all equally, he had no separate feelings for Lancelot. Right?

To distract himself he looked at Tristan. "What happened to him, Trist? What happened to Lancelot?" he asked his voice a raspy whisper.

Tristan looked over his shoulder at Lancelot. He sighed and then turned back to Arthur, his face half hidden in shadow.

"He was beaten badly, and stabbed here." Tristan said and pulled down the blanket so that Arthur could see. He peeled off the blanket making sure that he did not disturb Lancelot's sleep. He then indicated the dark, infected, scabbing wound at the centre of Lancelot's abdomen. Arthur had seen many battle wounds and this looked like it had been done on a battle field. The wound was deep and serrated at one end which meant it had been thrust upwards before being torn out of the body. He turned away. Fucking Saxons.

He turned away to face the fire, his hand on the mantle.

"Is that everything?" Arthur asked hesitantly, he didn't want to know what other injuries his friends received. Arthur turned to Tristan when he did not answer.

Tristan looked away when Arthur turned to him. He couldn't say it. He couldn't. It wasn't for Arthur to know. Lancelot would have wanted to keep this wound to himself. Tristan looked back at Arthur.

"No. there was nothing else." He answered. He quickly looked away hoping that Arthur wouldn't see the lie in his eyes. Arthur saw it.

"You're lying to me. Tell e everything, Tristan!' he demanded. Lancelot jolted away and looked around puzzled and terrified. He pulled up the covers and hid himself from his Arthur and Tristan.

"Where…where am I? How did I survive? Tristan? Arthur? Good lord…I am…how can…" Lancelot began breathing rapidly and he was panicking. Traumatized is what he was and Tristan knew it. Arthur still didn't understand how Lancelot could have no idea what happened or how he arrived here. He was blind to what was before him; that Lancelot's body was reacting in a way that a human body would after an ordeal. Something the body does to help itself heal.

"Shh. Lancelot it's alright you are safe." Tristan said and without knowing that he was doing it, began stroking Lancelot's brow in a loving manner. Lancelot looked at Arthur and then at Tristan and Arthur noticed the change in his friend's eyes. Something changed when Lancelot looked at Tristan and Arthur felt his insides seize again. He was jealous.

"It was you." Lancelot whispered to Tristan, staring into his friend's dark eyes. Tristan leaned in to hear and blocked Arthur's view of Lancelot's face again. Arthur huffed in frustration. He sat on the end of the bed. Lancelot shifted his gaze from Tristan back to Arthur and his eyes became stone.

Lancelot stared momentarily at his leader then looked away. He wanted to disappear, to never have to look Arthur in the face again. Arthur's gaze was like liquid fire. He didn't know why but he didn't want anyone looking at him like that.

"I…"Lancelot cleared his throat. He couldn't remember what happened to him, only bits and pieces. He tried to take in a deep breath and gasped. He slowly looked down at himself, unwilling to breathe out. When he saw his knife wound he froze. He remembered now. His lower jaw began to tremble as the memories came back to him. Dark, and vivid they seemed.

"You best rest, Lance. The Saxons…we'll get them for whatever they did to you." Arthur stated trying to sound like the hero. He didn't know why but he felt like he had to fight Tristan for Lancelot's attention. His friend was in pain and he wanted to say and do anything he could to make his friend feel himself again. Lancelot's gaze snapped up to his leader.

"I don't know what you are talking about. The Saxons? What about…" Lancelot lied. He didn't want to believe what had happened and he wasn't about to let the man he pretended to be, know about any of it.

Tristan then stood quickly, cutting him off.

"You sleep now Lancelot. Rest my friend. Heal." Tristan told his friend, and resisted the urge to kiss Lance's forehead. He shook his head, ridding it of the unwelcome thoughts. Tristan then turned to Arthur and took his arm in a gentle but firm grip. He led Arthur out of the room and when the door closed behind them, Arthur tor his arm from Tristan's grasp.

'What!?" he demanded. He didn't know why he was so upset at Tristan and it was beginning to frustrate him.

"Lancelot isn't ready to remember what happened. Don't remind him, and don't ask him. It will frighten him into silence and he will never willingly speak to you again." Tristan warned.

Arthur looked at Tristan, his eyes furious. He very much wished at that moment that he could rip the tattoos off of Tristan's face and punch him. He had never felt like this towards Tristan but it was beginning to consume his being. This rage within him, wanted out and he very much wanted it to be Tristan on which it was unleashed.

Arthur scoffed and turned his back on Tristan walking away down the hall before it was too late and he did end up hitting one of his knights. He had only ever did that once and it was Lancelot whom he had hit. It was when they were younger, just beginning to like girls and Arthur whispered to Lancelot that the girl walking in front of them would end up being his wife. Then Lancelot ran up to the girl and kissed her right then and there. Arthur didn't do anything but watch stupefied. When Lancelot pulled away from the girl his face wasn't happy but that of the girl's was. She was smiling so widely at Lancelot that Arthur struck out.

Arthur turned down the corridor towards his room and stopped. He turned to the wall and punched it with all his might. The stone slab cracked and some pieces fell to the ground as rubble. His knuckles bled but Arthur welcomed the pain. He looked down at his knuckles and then hit the wall again and again. The pain of his knuckles dulled, but a pain in his heart began to take shape. His eyes welled. Why did Lancelot not love him as he loved Lancelot?

He stopped at this thought. His breathing began to go back to normal and he turned his back to the wall he had obliterated and leaned against it. Sliding down the wall, realization set in. A realization that shook him to his core.

He loved Lancelot.


	7. Insert

(so for all those who enjoy my story, I just want to tell you that I redid the first chapter

(so for all those who enjoy my story, I just want to tell you that I redid the first chapter. It is the same principle but I fixed the ending and I also fixed a lot of the spelling.)


	8. Replaced

Guinevere walked away from Lancelot's room determined to be as far away, from the man that was Arthur, as possible

Guinevere walked away from Lancelot's room determined to be as far away, from the man that was Arthur, as possible. She did not understand the relationship he had with his knights. She knew that ever king must love his people but this was insane. How could he just shun her as he had, after she gave him what he had wanted? He had seen with his own eyes that Lancelot was alive. But then why when she led him there he didn't seem as grateful as she had hoped?

But of course he wouldn't have picked her up and swung her around but some thanks would have been appreciated. How she would have loved to have his strong muscular arms around her once again. Though instead of bringing her out of her prison, as he had the first time he held her in his arms, he would be brining her to his bed.

Guinevere stopped. She loved this man. She knew it and she didn't deny herself the thought. It was perfectly natural to love the one who saved your life. Her father would have told her so. But why doesn't he love her? He seems to love Lancelot more than anything, which she didn't understand. It was just love that Arthur has for Lancelot because they have been friends forever. She knew that as well. Her father, back in the safety of the forests, has a friend, a fellow seer, which he cares for dearly for the sole reason that they have known each other longer than she had been out of the womb.

She was jealous of that relationship as well. She didn't have such a bond with anyone, which is a reason she wanted Arthur to notice her. She knew she had impressed him when she had fought along side him on the ice. She knew it. She continued to walk but at a slower pace. She was calmer now knowing that he was impressed with her. That he had noticed her as his equal. She raised her head slightly. She was equal to a king.

There was a sound from behind her as though someone had hit the wall of the castle with an axe. She heard rubble fall to the ground. She was instantly alert. Was someone trying to enter into the castle…they could have tried a subtler attempt.

She followed the sound, which continued, picking up speed. She rounded a corner her bow in her hands and an arrow already drawn. There was nothing there. She walked slowly as Woad might do to not be detected and rounded another corner. She instantly let down her bow as she saw Arthur. She watched him slid to the floor. His hands were bloody and he sat in the dust and pieces of his work. She saw tears glisten on his cheeks as he brought his knees closer to his chest. She hid around the corner and heard him sigh. This was a man in need of help. He was in such pain.

Now was _her_ chance to be _his_ hero. She smiled to herself but it was gone when she came around the corner again. She forced concern onto her face as she went to him.

"Arthur, what has happened? I heard sounds and I came to see what it was. Are you alright? Here let me help you, my liege." She took one of his arms and helped him to his feet. As soon as she had come around the corner he had whipped the tears from his eyes, putting on the strong act. Warriors weren't supposed to cry.

"I'm alright. Thank you, Guinevere." He looked down at her. She was much better than when he had found her. He was to her as Tristan was to Lancelot. Her hero. She looked so concerned for him. She had seen him at his lowest point and she wanted to help. She was someone he should love, not Lancelot. He should feel for Guinevere what he felt for his knight. He looked back towards the direction of Lancelot's room and knew he would not be able to get what he wanted from his friend. It would seem so…inappropriate. To love a man more than a friend was…not aloud.

He turned back to Guinevere with hungry eyes. So he would take out his love for Lancelot on this woman who saw him as her hero. He would make her happy as he wanted Lancelot to be happy. He would make love to this woman the way he wanted to make love to Lancelot. He shook his head. Now there was a thought. Making love with another man…the gods, should have stricken him down where he stood for that thought.

"What is it my lord? What ails you?" She had him where she wanted him. She had seen the hunger in his eyes. She knew what she had to do next.

"Nothing, my head is pounding is all." He responded, smiling at her. She gave a pretend half hearted smile, trying to keep the concern on her face.

"I know a remedy for such a thing. Come, follow me to my chambers and I will help you clean those cuts before they get infected." She said and turned away gently pulling him by the arm. He followed her willingly. She smiled to herself now that her face was turned away.

Arthur couldn't stand it. He stopped and she turned to look at him, questions in her eyes. He gently pushed her against the wall and saw the want on her face. She was breathing deeply, desire radiating off of her. His lips crashed down on hers and he felt her smile. They kissed passionately for some time and then Arthur's mind placed Lancelot in Guinevere's place. Upon feeling the difference Arthur opened his eyes and Lancelot's stared back. Arthur couldn't help but grin. He knew it was Guinevere he was kissing, he could feel her womanly curves beneath his hands, but it wasn't who he was kissing. He felt himself go stiff and he kissed more roughly. Lancelot would be able to take it.

Guinevere let out a moan as she felt his manhood grind up against her. He wanted her and her insides flamed in response. She had successfully seduced this man. He was hers for the taking and he would no longer choose one of his knights over her.

Arthur began kissing her more roughly. She didn't like it but she knew it was his passion for her, to be inside her that drew him into this frenzy.

Arthur pulled back quickly. He was about to come and he hadn't even made love to this woman. But oh the thought of Lancelot beneath him drew him to the edge. He had no idea this passion for his friend was so strong. It made him wonder how long he had really been in love with Lancelot.

They breathed together for a moment, and then Guinevere took his hand and led him to her room. It took longer than she wanted; her room was so far from Lancelot's. She finally got there and opened the door. She let go of Arthur's hand and let him in. She made him sit on the bed as she fetched warm water and cloths for his knuckles.

Arthur watched this woman who moved around with elegance, and grace and thought she would make a great queen. She came to him a bowl in her hands and cloths over her left shoulder. She placed the bowl at his feet and began washing his bloody hands gently. She wanted him so bad and she knew he wanted her, it was clearly apparent from the strain being put on his pants, but she had to continue her roll of devotion to make things official.

She finished and went and put the bowl and bloody rags outside her door for the servants to take care of. She came back to Arthur, making sure her hips swayed. She went down on the floor and took both of his hands. She kissed the back of each of them and then placed her hands on his knees. She looked up at him and he was looking calmly down at her. He knew what she was about to do to him.

She slide her hands painfully slow up his legs. They came together at his belt and she looked up at him as she undid it. He untucked his shirt and drew it over his head. He threw it to the ground as Guinevere found his manhood. She rubbed it and his head fell back in ecstasy. His breathing picked up and she came down on him. She teased him with her hands as she sucked.

"La…"Arthur's head shot back as he realised that he almost said Lancelot's name. Guinevere stopped what she was doing with her mouth and looked up at him, her hands continuing to tease.

"What was that, my lord?" she asked fiendishly.

"La...Lay down…On the bed." Arthur said. She smiled and stood. He almost whined as her hands left his member. She sexily took off her dress and she didn't let it show on her face, but she was disappointed that he didn't seem interested. He stared at her as though waiting for her to finish. She did and then walked back to him. He placed his hands on her waist and sat her down, sliding her up so that she could lay her head on a pillow.

Guinevere shocked at her own excitement watched him as he kissed his way up from her navel. When his lips met hers, she felt him at her entrance, throbbing and impatient. She opened her legs wider and he drew into her. She gasped and clung to him, hands around his neck, her face at his neck. She kissed his neck urging with her hips, to go on.

Arthur stared down at the pillow as Guinevere clung to him. He didn't feel right. It felt good to be in her, but not as good as…he shook his head and thrust himself into her. She moaned into his ear and he thrust again. He couldn't shake how wrong he felt but tried to distract himself but pumping into her. He was getting quite frustrated with himself. He came out of her and she lay down on the pillow again. He didn't thrust again.

"What is it?" She asked out of breath.

"Turn over." He ordered. She did so without objection. He widened her legs with his knees and placed himself. He looked down at Guinevere's back and remembered when he had seen Lancelot change. His back had been just as smooth, but more muscular. His body bucked at the memory and he pushed himself into her again. She cried out. It sounded like a cry of pain.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She only nodded. He took it as a sign and continued. This felt better. The tightness around him as he shoved himself in and out was what he wanted, needed. He began picking up speed as he thought about that time when Lancelot and he had gone swimming at moonlight when the other knights had been sleeping. They had both stripped down and ran into the water as though they were boys instead of fully grown men. Lancelot had laughed and spat water at him. He laughed out loud. He was nearing his climax and she knew it. They cried out together with every thrust and finally with Lancelot's wet dripping body as he got out of the water in his mind, he came.


End file.
